When We First Met
by Zizzer
Summary: What if Hayley Marshall met Elijah Mikaelson before Klaus Mikaelson? This story is set in an AU in NYC and changes the fate of many beloved Originals and TVD characters.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

**Hayley**

The pink-faced manager at O'Connor's Bar & Grill throws crumpled bills into the air, leaving me no choice but to pop a squat and collect the money on the beer-soaked wooden floor. As I stuff the soggy bills in my jean pockets and rise up to my feet, I see a self-satisfied smirk spread across Tim's chubby fuchsia cheeks.

_What an ass-hat_.

"I knew you'd be trouble. But attacking a customer? You're lucky I didn't call the police!"

I flip him off as I turn on my heel and strut out of Tim's tiny office. He starts shouting profanities at me, but I tune him out. Sighing, I take off my tiny black work apron, and prop myself up on a stool next to the bar. Savannah, an O'Connor's bartender with platinum-blonde hair, gives me a sympathetic look. She nods her head towards Tim's office and rolls her eyes, which makes me laugh. We both know he's a douche. I wish Savannah would leave this old, mold-infested joint. Not only is the manager an ass, but the pay isn't that great. Plus, I'm pretty sure the bar's décor never changed from when it was built in the '80s. There's a zebra-patterned couch next to an out-of-order jukebox for fuck's sake.

Savannah comes over and offers me a warm smile. "So, Tim's giving you the boot, huh? I'm sorry to hear it, but this drink is on me." She serves me a Sam Adams with a wink and I mumble a 'thank you.' Even though I don't work in this dump anymore, why can't I treat myself to one last drink?

I sip the cold beer and muse about the little incident that caused Tim to fly off the handle and fire me. Technically, the customer I fought had attacked _me_ first, but by the time Tim came around to see what the commotion was about, I was standing over the unconscious body of my would-be assaulter.

It was a newbie werewolf. I vaguely remembered meeting him back when I was invited into the werewolf pack in New York City. Was his name Bill or Will? He didn't strike me as an experienced werewolf. He should've known better than to try to take me on. I felt a touch regretful beating up on the scrawny _were_. I knew it wasn't his idea to make me a target. _She_ was definitely behind this. And now that Bill/Will or whatever failed, it was only a matter of time before she would order more wolves to come after me.

Luckily I never stay in one place for long. I know the drill by heart: try to make nice with the local wolves, stock up on as much money as I can, and then beat the hell out of town. Wolf packs aren't exactly known for embracing strangers—even fellow wolves—so when I was welcomed by the pack in New York, I had a fluttery, excited feeling in my stomach. That maybe this time it would be different. I could finally call this place my home.

Now that dream is dead. No time for regrets or even revenge against that vamp seductress who mind-controlled all the wolves to do her bidding. My only thought is to leave New York as soon as possible. But first, I need more cash. Turns out that living in one of the most expensive cities in the world did quite a number on my savings. To go somewhere far away—where my former wolf friends can't find me—I'll need one more score. I look around the bar for someone with a lot of cash, a bit inebriated, and won't notice if a few bills go astray…

I peruse tonight's bar crowd and groan out of frustration. "Slim pickings" is an understatement. The place is completely empty. It's the Tuesday night crowd. Only two grumpy old men are busy watching some game on the flat screen, while a nerdy boy chats up an uninterested girl at the far end of the bar. I'm thinking it's a first date. It's awkward as hell just watching them.

I reach for one of the bigger bills, place it on the bar for Savannah, and prepare to head out. I shuffle towards the door, but before I can head out to face the cool autumn night, a large body knocks into me. I lose my balance, and I'm pretty I'm about to face plant on the ground until strong hands wrap around my arms, steadying me. I turn my head up to glance at the imposing figure of my savior and my jaw drops. Standing before me is the most handsome man I've ever seen. His flawless features are overwhelming. He's tall with wavy brown hair, a strong nose, and soulful, dark eyes. Then I notice his clothes: a black suit, light blue tie, pocket square, and polished, black leather shoes. His whole outfit fits him like a glove. Tailored, of course, and ridiculously expensive.

It doesn't even occur to me to ask why Mr. Park Avenue decided to slum it at some Irish pub on the west side. All I see are dollar signs. He's the perfect target.

I'm about to turn on my charm, but he smiles at me warmly and I lose my train of thought. _Shit_. He's a smoothie.

"I must apologize for knocking into you. Are you alright?" His dark eyes are full of concern as they search mine, and I know I'm losing my chance to go in for the kill. It's time to focus.

I bat my eyelashes and return his smile. "I'm good, thanks. It's half my fault too. How about I buy you a drink to make amends?"

I peek up at him and feel somewhat relieved that he seems amused by my flirty antics. I hook my arm through his and I'm about pull both of us to the bar when I hear a booming voice from across the room.

"What are YOU still doing here? You're fired. That means get THE FUCK out of here. Or do I need to spell it out for you?"

Tim's posture is ramrod straight and his cheeks have darkened from fuchsia to cherry-red. He's furious I haven't skedaddled.

Suddenly, I realize that plan A—getting this guy liquored up—is no longer an option. It's time for plan B: the "quick lift."

I shoot Park Avenue an innocent "I have no idea what that crazy man is talking about" smile and unlatch my arm from his. He gives me a quizzical look and parts his lips as if he's about to speak, but I silence him by pressing my fingertips to his full mouth. Then I lean in closer to his gorgeous face.

"Sorry about that drink," I whisper and brush my lips against his ear. My hands fall against his crisp, button-up white dress shirt and my throat dries up as my palms rest against his firm chest.

It's not like this tactic is new to me. After all, I've played the seductress countless times before, but it's strange feeling up Park Avenue. There's a pit in my stomach and I think I'm blushing. When I steal a glance up at him, his expression is unreadable. It's kind of annoying. I feel completely transparent.

I can see red-faced Tim in the corner of my eye and I know it's time to make my move. He's about to blow.

I jump away from "Tall, Dark, & Handsome" and shoot him my best coquettish smile. "Maybe next time I'll buy you that drink."

Then I give Park Avenue a wink and slam the door behind me before he can utter a word.

Almost immediately, I feel a pang of regret. What the hell is wrong with me? Am I disappointed that I might not run into Park Avenue again? I remind myself that's not what counts. I feel the familiar, heavy weight in my right hand. Money. The only thing in this world that matters. My mission was a success.

There are three Ds that are essential for being a good thief: distraction, discretion, and distance. I'm feeling confident that I aced all three Ds this go around, but I still need to get away from the bar STAT. Still, I can't resist turning the corner and checking out my hard-earned reward: Park Avenue's black leather wallet.

I roll my eyes at the brand. It's Fendi. Figures.

I'm sure that whatever's inside the wallet will be more than enough to get me far away from the city. I pat myself on the back for a job well done and prepare to make a run for it, but a familiar form comes up behind me and blocks my escape.

It's Park Avenue.

_Sonofabitch._

"I believe you have something that belongs to me?"

His tone is light and playful, but I'm not an idiot. Underneath the charming exterior is something dangerous. No human could possibly sneak up on a werewolf like that. I'm dealing with a fellow supernatural, and if I were to judge by looks—clean cut, prim and proper speech—I'd say vampire. An old vampire.

Strength-wise I'm definitely outmatched and he knows it too. He offers me a triumphant grin and holds out his hand expectantly. I feel like he's laughing at me and it's starting to piss me off. What can I say? I have a temper. And I'm a bit proud. But I also want to live, so I reluctantly place the wallet in his hand.

Once our hands meet, he swiftly tucks the wallet away in the inside of his suit pocket, his shit-eating grin never leaving his face. That cocky bastard.

I've lost the battle with Park Avenue and now I'll have to find a new target.

"Don't spend it all in one place." I shrug and turn to leave, but he grabs my arm. Hard.

_Crap. _I'm not getting out of this one so easily. There's nowhere to run, and of course, the corner around the bar is a narrow alleyway—an alleyway without any witnesses around. My throat dries again, but this time it's for a completely different reason. I'm scared.

As if he sensed my fear, the vampire releases my arm and raises his hands in the air in a non-threatening gesture. "Please forgive me. Where are my manners?"

He places a hand to his chest and heat rises to my cheeks. I remember all too well what that sculpted chest felt like. I replay the intimate moment over and over again. I pinch myself on the wrist. I gotta snap out of it. It's not the appropriate time for these dirty thoughts.

But the vampire doesn't notice my inner turmoil. Thank god.

He continues his speech. "I'm Elijah. An original vampire—one of the first vampires created on this earth."

I suppose I should feel comforted that I guessed he was old. But a freaking original!? I stole a wallet from an _original_ vampire. I might as well dictate my obituary to him. I'm in deep shit.

One of Elijah's dark eyebrows lifts up and he stares intently at me, clearly waiting for me to introduce myself. As if the information he divulged is totally normal. I mean, it's not every day an orphaned werewolf girl meets a centuries-old vampire. It's more than a little unnerving.

"I'm Hayley," I reply lamely.

"A pleasure," he rewards my answer with an even broader smile. And yet, there isn't a trace of maliciousness in his expression. In fact, he seems kind—friendly even.

I allow myself to relax just a smidge and exhale loudly. "It's nice making your acquaintance and all, but I think we're done here. I stole from you, but returned your wallet. So we're good, yes?"

Elijah smirks, in a wise-ass way. "Unfortunately, we are not "good" as you say. We have unfinished business."

"How do we have unf—"

I try to protest, but he won't stop talking.

"I'm here because of that deranged werewolf you defeated so easily this evening. He's not the only wolf who's suffered from mind control."

Elijah steps closer towards me. I stand still and erect. Afraid to move. Afraid to breathe.

"You know of whom I speak."

My light brown eyes meet his direct gaze and I nod. "Of course, I know who's controlling the wolves."

Elijah doesn't bother responding. He already knows the answer, but he's toying with me.

My irritation at his deliberate elusiveness makes me bold. I decide to call him out. I'm done playing this game.

"And you also know who's controlling the wolves."

He nods his head and laughs softly.

"Katherine Pierce."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

**Elijah**

The wolf girl is not amused. And yet, she's highly amusing.

Hayley knows the extent of my power, but she's not afraid of me. That defiant glint in her light brown eyes makes that clear. As someone who is used to immortals and mortals alike kowtowing before me, Hayley is…refreshing. And beautiful. There's no question about that: wavy brown hair and pouty lips—pursed in irritation? And now she's crossing her arms. And scowling. She's tiring of our game.

"How do you know the vamp bitch?" Hayley asks without batting an eye.

I should be surprised by her bluntness, but I can't stop myself from laughing.

"Katherine…or should I say Katerina? We go back. We have a deep history."

"So she's an ex-girlfriend or something like that?"

"Not quite. We're old acquaintances…"

Hayley groans and presses a hand to her temple. "Look, Elijah, _original vampire_, you might live forever, but I don't have time for this. How about we just get to the point—what does this have to do with me?"

It's a fair point, but I don't want to part ways just yet. And I still need to ask her for that favor.

"Why don't you and I go somewhere a little more…appealing?" I gesture to the dank alleyway that surrounds us.

Hayley nods. "Well, I suppose if you wanted me dead you would have done so already. What'd you have in mind?"

"There is a private lounge near here called Le Crystal. Shall we?" I give her a quick wink and extend my hand.

She considers my offer for a couple seconds then brushes past me. I feel a slight twinge of disappointment until she suddenly whirls around.

"Sounds expensive. You're buying, right?" Her voice is flat, but her eyes are sparkling with humor and her full lips are curved up in a slight smile.

I return her grin. "Of course."

Candlelight, red satin couches, dark wood tables. There are a few couples sitting in shadowy corners in the lounge and stealing kisses. It's a small, intimate space. Le Crystal is nothing if not romantic. But as soon as Hayley strolls into the lounge, I realize my mistake. She takes in the dim lighting, the embracing couples, and the soft jazz music playing in the background and raises an eyebrow at me questioningly.

For a moment I wonder if she'll leave, but she shrugs casually and takes a seat at the bar. I don't know why I feel relieved, but I tell myself it's because I need her help. I sit down next to her and order drinks for us—a scotch for me and a Brooklyn Lager for her.

I raise my glass in silent cheers and she mimics me jokingly and sips her beer.

After a few moments of nursing our drinks, Hayley breaks the silence.

"So about that elusive point…"

"Ah yes. The reason you're here. Tonight you were attacked by that werewolf boy."

Hayley nods. "Yeah, I think his name was Bill or Will or something. I beat him up pretty bad. But what do you know about it?"

"Well, this evening I also had the pleasure of meeting this young wolf's acquaintance…along with five of his friends who weren't as lucky as this—let's call him Bill?"

Hayley nearly chokes on the beer she's drinking. "Wait—hold up. You mean that you were attacked by Bill and five werewolves? How could they be so stupid? To think that they could go up against an original…"

She pauses for a second. "They're dead, aren't they?"

"Yes. They were out for blood—but to be specific, they were out for the blood of an original. My blood."

Hayley can't meet my eyes and I feel I need to explain my violent actions. Even though the code of the original family has always been an eye for an eye…

Still, it occurs to me that Hayley might of thought of these wolves as family. And I need her cooperation. I decide to show a softer side.

"They wouldn't stop their attack on me, Hayley. It became obvious that the wolves were under some sort of compulsion—and it was very strong. Though I did manage to find out who was responsible from one of the wolves. Katherine."

She shoots me a glare. "And I suppose the wolf just gladly gave up the name without any sort of pressure from you?"

Her antagonism doesn't intimidate me. I won't dance around her accusation. I have nothing to hide from her.

"I had to interrogate the wolf. And in doing so, I found the answer behind the attack. There is something you aren't comprehending, Hayley. It's for the wolves' protection that I called you here."

She crosses her arms and pouts her lips. I'm starting to think this is her default expression. And I'm hopelessly charmed by it.

"And how is that?"

"Katherine has always harbored a certain…hatred for my family. One member in particular. If she's compelled the wolves to hunt us down, it's not my family that I'm worried about. I fear that it will force my family's hand—to kill all the wolves Katherine has compelled."

Hayley meets my gaze and I see a myriad of emotions: distress, fear, and anger reflected back at me. She slams her right fist on the table causing some lip-locked couples to stare up at us in alarm.

"So you piss off your girlfriend and she decides to _use_ the wolves to do her dirty work? That cowardly piece of shit!"

She's shouting, and though the noise is not at all compatible with the mellow ambience at Le Crystal, I don't try to calm her. I know she needs this—to air out her rage.

I rest my hand on hers. A light touch, but it startles her—and me. Her bright eyes are wide with surprise, but she doesn't remove her hand from mine.

"Why me, Elijah? What can I do?"

Her voice is a little above a whisper. She seems small now and vulnerable. I want to comfort her, to protect her from this new threat. But without her involvement, there might not be a way to get to Katherine…to stop this madness.

I'm about to reveal everything when I see a shock of bright red hair out of the corner of my eye. The color is familiar.

And then it clicks. It's Bill the young werewolf from before. He's bruised and bloody from his tussle with Hayley, but his eyes are glazed over. And he's moving closer…near Hayley with something clutched in his hand.

Within seconds Bill clocks Hayley over the head with an empty bottle of wine. Hayley let out a cry and collapses hard on the floor. I stare at Hayley's unconscious form in shock as a combination of fear and anger—a dangerous amount of anger—hits me.

I allow my killer instinct to take over.

Before Bill can whack Hayley again with the bottle, I grab it out of his hands and smash it against the bar. Then I push Bill against a wall in the corner of the lounge and press the sharp edge of the half-broken bottle against his neck.

I'm about to rip out his throat when Bill starts to laugh maniacally. If I was remotely intimidated by this baby wolf, I might quiver at the frightful sound. Alas, I know his life will soon be over.

Bill sneers at me. "You think you can stop our beloved queen? You will fail. You're going to die. You and your whole family—"

I roll my eyes at his psychotic ramblings.

"—and that bitch of a wolf, Hayley. She'll be dead too."

I narrow my eyes and with a flick of my wrist I cut open Bill's throat. Blood pools out of his neck and he chokes, gasping for air. I leave him, collapsed on a heap on the floor. He'll die soon enough.

Walking away from Bill, I register my surroundings. Le Crystal is completely empty except for the dark haired wolf knocked out on the floor. All the patrons and the staff must have fled as soon as Bill struck Hayley.

I stoop down next to the injured wolf girl and spot a large gash on her forehead. I feel another surge of anger. If Bill wasn't dead already, I would surely kill him again for harming her. I touch Hayley's cool face with the back of my hand. She's out cold. I have a strong urge to stay with Hayley until she wakes up, but I know that after all the commotion the police will be at Le Crystal soon.

I lift Hayley up and I marvel how light and delicate she feels in my arms. I smile despite myself. Even though I've just met this girl, somehow I think she'd take offense to being called "delicate." In fact, I'm pretty sure she'd punch me square in the face.

I snap out of my daze as soon as I hear sirens outside of Le Crystal. I peer down at Hayley. It's time to make a quick decision.

Now what to do with this beautiful, sharp-tongued wolf?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

**Hayley**

When my eyes snap open, a couple of things are immediately clear: that the right side of my head feels like it was slammed repeatedly against a concrete wall and that I have no idea where the hell I am.

Panic sets in as I frantically take in my strange surroundings. I'm in a large room with cream-colored walls, laying down on a king size bed with a silver down comforter and matching throw pillows. The only other furniture in the room is a deep cherry wood desk on the opposite side of the room. Nothing adorns the plain, off-white walls. And while there are papers on the desk, I note that they're stacked neatly. Everything is organized and in pristine condition.

My hand reaches up where my head is throbbing and I feel a bandage covering up what seems to be a deep wound. I groan as I finally piece together what probably happened to me.

Who else would be the owner of such a luxurious bedroom? I mean, who can afford an apartment in Manhattan with central air conditioning? The cool temperature in the room sends a shiver down my spine and I'm tempted to snuggle into the soft sheets to keep warm.

And then there's the obvious clue: who in the world would bother to take care of me? There's no one who would give a damn except the one man who needs me alive—at least it seems he needs me for the plan he's cooking up.

Elijah.

I suddenly feel a bit embarrassed and self-conscious. I don't doubt that I'm in Elijah's apartment and that I'm safe here, but I can't control the sudden urge to make a quick exit. I don't like that he's seen how incompetent I am at protecting myself. Though I was way off my game tonight, usually I don't end up unconscious at some stranger's home. I've been taking care of myself for a long time and I don't want to give him the impression that I'm some damsel in distress who needs his help.

I gather up my resolve and decide to bolt. If Elijah needs me for his cockamamie plan to "save the wolves" he can track me down. I have no doubt that he will find me again.

Slowly, I scoot off the bed and tip toe quietly outside the door—and then my jaw drops. If the room I was sleeping in was a bit bare in its décor, the rest of the apartment is anything but. Paintings are hung up all along the walls—lighting up the space with vibrant colors. Most of the artwork seems to be impressionist, but I note a few modern, abstract pieces littered throughout. A huge chandelier hangs over what appears to be a living area, complete with black leather furniture and a fireplace. There is a winding staircase that leads to a second floor that I imagine is decorated as lavishly as the ground floor.

This is definitely an apartment suited for Mr. Park Avenue. And though it's dark outside, I'm sure that in the daylight, if I looked out the window I would see Central Park in all its beautiful, lush glory.

The sound of a cabinet door closing snaps me out of my musings. I scurry towards what appears to be the entryway, which is next to the kitchen area. I note that the light in the kitchen is on, so I tiptoe closer to the door. I'm about to reach for the doorknob, when a deep, masculine voice stops me.

"Leaving already?"

Damn it. I turn around to face Elijah though I'm pretty sure my face is red from humiliation. My eyes flick up to meet his for a second and I see that there's no judgment or anger in his gaze. His dark eyes are warm and he's lips are quirked up a in a slight smile.

I can't stand it. I don't need his pity. But I also can't leave without acknowledging him…what he did for me.

I stare at my feet and mumble, "Um. Thanks for taking care of me or whatever. I'm not sure what happened, but um, I appreciate it."

Elijah doesn't speak, so I step closer to the door. "Anyway, I'll get going. Thanks again—"

I'm about to reach for the knob, but Elijah, with his original vampire speed, gets there before I do. His rough, large hand encloses mine, and a thrilling sensation crawls up my spine—even though we're just holding hands.

"Your choice is your own. But it would concern me to let you go outside after what you've been through tonight. Especially since the one responsible for your injury is none other than myself."

I glance at his face and notice that his brows are furrowed and his eyes are downcast. He seems remorseful and I immediately want to lighten his mood. I hardly know this guy, but I would bet my life that he would never lay a hand on me. Time to let him off the hook.

"Elijah, stop being ridiculous. I know you didn't do this to me. So, it's ok. You don't have to feel guilty."

His thumb rubs softly against my knuckles and my heart pounds hard against my chest. It scares me shitless that his slightest touch affects me this much.

Elijah's voice is barely a whisper. "Please don't go, Hayley."

The tender way he speaks to me, his pleading tone touches me. I make my decision. Even though it might be a mistake.

I give his hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it from my grip—and I can see a flash of hurt cross his face—as if I'm rejecting him.

Then my hand curls into a fist and I punch him in the shoulder playfully. Again, his eyes light up and I'm rewarded with an endearing, small grin.

"Well, if you insist on hosting me in your crazy luxurious apartment, I won't say no. Now what have you got to eat in this joint? I'm starved and you don't want a hungry wolf on your hands—trust me."

Elijah laughs and gestures to the kitchen across from the entryway. "Right this way. I'll prepare something for you."

I'm sitting at an island in the middle of the spacious kitchen when Elijah places in front of me a plate of the most elegant spaghetti I've ever seen. And it smells divine. Who knew that the original vampire could cook? Watching Elijah's confidence and ease working in the kitchen, prepping the ingredients and simmering the basil tomato sauce, was like watching a dance. I've never seen Elijah happier. His pure pleasure for cooking is sexy as hell.

Elijah hands me a fork and my stomach growls loudly. When was the last time I ate? He seems a bit nervous as I twirl the delicate noodles and take my first bite. He raises an eyebrow in anticipation of my review, but I don't leave him in suspense too long.

I moan loudly and stab more spaghetti with my fork. "Ohmygod. Elijah, this is amazing. Try this!"

Before he can protest, I stuff the fork into his mouth. He almost chokes from surprise, but nods in agreement. "I'm glad the pasta is to your liking."

I roll my eyes. That's an understatement. Compared to my usual dinners of ramen noodles and potato chips, this is one of the best meals of my life.

I twirl up another big helping of spaghetti and close my eyes as I take another bite. I put down my fork and fix Elijah with a serious look.

"You should be doing this for a living."

"What? Serving food to beautiful ladies?" He flashes me a flirty smile and winks.

I blush at his corny line despite myself and return his smile. "No, you should be a chef. I've never tasted anything this good. And I can tell you love it."

Elijah shakes his head, "I don't have time for such an undertaking."

I shrug and continue polishing off my plate. It's really none of my concern what Elijah does with his life, but I feel a twinge of disappointment. He's clearly passionate about food—so why does he make these lame jokes and excuses?

"I suppose hatching plans against vengeful exes takes up most of your time?"

The words are harsher than I intend, and though Elijah's lips tighten, his face is a mask. And it's damn annoying. Does that shell of his ever crack?

His dark, soulful eyes look into mine and his hand reaches out to me, lightly touching the bandaged area on my face.

My own hand reaches up and holds onto his. We stay like that, holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes for a while before I speak.

"So what happened to me?"

Elijah exhales deeply and takes his hand away from mine to run it through his wavy brown mane. "Bill, the young werewolf you fought earlier tonight, came back. He hit you on the head with a bottle and knocked you unconscious."

I'm afraid of the answer, but I have to ask, "Is he…?"

Elijah looks away from me and doesn't respond—I have my answer. Shit. I'm furious that this poor kid got mixed up in this mess. It wasn't his fault. Katherine compelled him to kill me and now he's dead. I ball up my hands into tight fists and my whole body shakes with anger.

I only relax when Elijah walks over to me and places his hands on my shoulders to calm me down.

"Hayley, I owe you an apology. This night—what happened to you—I'm to blame. If you want to leave now, I won't stop you. I'll help you leave the city and I promise you'll never see me again."

Elijah's look of concern is enough to convince me of his sincerity. This is my opportunity. What I've been waiting for—a chance to escape. But the thought of leaving now, knowing what I know—and the lives of the wolves that are at stake, twists me up inside. I can't go. I'll stay. I'll fight.

I gaze up at the vampire's handsome face with a determined stare. "What's the plan, Elijah? I'm in."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

**Elijah**

Sunrays creep in through the open window, spilling bright light directly on my face. I wake with a start, my heart pounding, with only one thought on my mind: Hayley. I'm reclined on the leather couch in the living area—but how the hell did I get here? I slowly start to process what happened last night. When did I doze off? And when did Hayley leave? The absolute stillness in the apartment is enough to tip me off that she's gone, but where did she go?

After Hayley agreed to fight against Katherine and her werewolf pawns, I'm sure she hasn't fled the city. Still, I can't shake the feeling that she isn't safe, that she needs my protection. She was almost killed last night and I'll be damned if I allow her life to be at risk again.

I'm about to chase after her—determined to search every street in New York if need be—until I see a folded sheet of paper on the wooden coffee table next to the couch. I open the paper with trepidation and read:

_Elijah—_

_Sorry to leave without saying goodbye, but I wanted to crash at home after such a crazy night. I left you on the couch to gather my things and then came back to find you sleeping, so this note will have to do._

_I'm game to help you find Katherine and whoever is helping her. I know this bar in my area that caters to the wolf crowd. I'm sure we can get some answers there._

_Please meet me at my apartment in BK around noon, the address is:_

_743 Hart Street_

_-Hayley_

_P.S. You drool in your sleep, Original Vampire_

My hand rushes to the side of my mouth and I groan out loud when I feel the crusted drool on my face. Charming. I'm mortified and suddenly my cheeks start to warm. Am I _blushing _now? I can't even recall the last time something made me blush. It takes very little to make an original vampire feel self-conscious, after all. But somehow this wolf girl and her snarky quips affect me.

I'm not surprised by this revelation. Hayley has the unique ability to cut to the core of me. It's strange considering I barely know her. And yet, there's something inexplicably familiar about her, as if we've known each other for years. The way she holds my gaze with her clear, shining brown eyes—she gives herself away too much. I can tell she trusts me implicitly.

It's impossible. I'm one of the most dangerous creatures who roam the night. I am someone who should be feared by all. And though I know it's quite ridiculous for a vampire and werewolf trust each other, but I have no doubt that I can count on her as an ally…and if I dare give life to such thoughts, could she be something more?

I shake my head and rub my drool-encrusted face. Last night I finally set the record straight with Hayley: that when Bill escaped my grasp the first time, I managed to follow him to O'Connor's and saw him attack her. I was about to intervene until it became clear that the striking, dark-haired wolf girl could take care of herself. A thought occurred to me that Hayley was able to escape Katherine's compulsion and could potentially help me find her _and_ her powerful allies.

Hayley, of course, agreed to help me any way she could. Her first thought was to make some inquiries to some close friends of the wolf pack, but I stressed that I would need to accompany during her investigation—an idea she firmly resisted. She rambled on about how I would "cramp her style" and that I would "ruin the whole mission" until I reassured her that I would only be her back up. She could handle things as she saw fit and I would take a back seat. And whatever I said seemed to pacify her—at least for now.

I check the 18th century grandfather clock, an old keepsake from London that rests against a cream-colored wall in the living room, and note that it's a quarter after ten. It's nearly time to meet the fiery wolf girl. My pulse quickens at the mere thought of seeing her and suddenly I worry that my newly formed alliance with Hayley could spell trouble for the both of us…

When the door to the two-story red brick apartment at 743 Hart Street opens, I fully expect to see a beautiful form greet me with wavy dark tresses, pouty lips twisted in a wry smirk, and glowing light brown eyes. Instead, a tiny woman emerges with gray hair pulled back into a tight bun, sharp blue eyes, and a scowl painted on her wrinkled face.

My mouth hangs open in shock as the old lady barks at me in a foreign tongue. It takes a while for the language to sink in. She's cursing at me—in Italian. Granted it's been decades since I lived in Italy, but I can decipher the gist of what she's saying. It's something like: "Get the hell out of my house, you dirty son of a whore." I start backing away from the house slowly, afraid to anger the elderly woman further, but then Hayley, my savior, bounds toward the door.

Hayley gently grasps the woman by her slender shoulders and annunciates each word loudly: "NONNA. STOP. YELLING. HE. IS. A. FRIEND."

The elderly woman looks from Hayley to me (though she fixes me with an angry glare) and shrugs her shoulders. She mutters something under her breath in Italian and shuffles back inside the apartment.

Hayley flashes me an apologetic smile, but I can't quite resist teasing her.

"It seems I was mistaken. I came to protect you, but I see now that you already have a bodyguard."

Hayley laughs nervously and steps closer to me. I can't help but remark how gorgeous she is in the daylight. She's dressed in a black leather jacket, form-fitting white tank top, and tight dark blue jeans. The style emphasizes her sensual s-line figure. My eyes travel down her toned and curvy body, lingering for a while at her cleavage.

Although it's quite cool outside, heat travels down my body and my muscles tighten. She's exquisite. I start to wonder what it would be like to wrap my arms around her, to caress her bare neck with my lips—and then I notice she's wearing huge black combat boots. The wolf means business and I admire her even more for that toughness. She's sexy and strong—everything a man could want in a woman.

"Please don't mind Nonna. She's really sweet…deep down," Hayley says, interrupting my silent worship of her body.

I nod, not really convinced that Nonna could ever be deemed "sweet". Then I turn serious. "How is your head?"

Hayley instinctively reaches for the bandage on the right side of her face. "Oh, this old battle wound? Much better. It'll heal in no time."

"I'm glad to hear it," I reply, relieved.

I'm about to propose that we leave the premises before Nonna returns, when Hayley pulls at the sleeve of my suit.

"Wait—hold on one second. What the hell is this?"

I give her a blank stare. The frustrated pout is back. Never a good sign.

"Elijah, by all the holy saints, do you not remember what I told you yesterday? That you would cramp my style! And now you're wearing…this!?"

I examine my pressed and perfectly tailored black suit and find nothing out of the ordinary. I look up at her questioningly and she sighs, clearly exasperated with whatever egregious fashion faux pas I've committed.

Without another word, Hayley stuns me by grabbing my hand and hauling me inside the apartment. The apartment is dim and cold and the air is musty from dust. I can barely see my way—not that it matters, though, with Hayley guiding me purposefully up a long, narrow flight of stairs to the second floor.

We stop suddenly in front of a door, but Hayley won't open it. She fidgets and her mouth twists, and I realize she's unsure about showing me inside. "This is my room—it isn't much to look at, but for now it's home…"

She trails off and looks down at her feet. I have the urge to lift her head to meet my gaze. I can't bear the thought of Hayley—the brave, beautiful wolf girl—ever feeling ashamed, especially when she's revealing a special part of herself to me. I squeeze her hand in encouragement, but Hayley immediately yanks her hand away from mine. Did she just realize we've been holding hands the whole time? Did it feel as natural for her as it did for me?

I decide to go for a more friendly gesture and rest my hand on her shoulder. I'm quite certain there is nothing intimate about shoulder-touching, but her head tilts up and her eyes widen in surprise all the same.

"Hayley, you don't have to let me in."

Her eyes soften and I know she's aware we're not just talking about allowing me inside her room. I can't have any expectations where Hayley's concerned. Our alliance is valid until we put a stop to Katherine and then we agreed to go our separate ways. I won't ask her for more than she's willing to give.

Hayley's bright eyes search my face. She's trying to assess how much she can trust me and I lose myself in her clear, steady gaze. A minute passes before she finally looks away. Then her full lips form a shy smile and she tentatively opens the door, motioning for me to go inside.

The first word that comes to mind when I enter the room is: emptiness. No pictures or artwork adorn the light gray walls. I note three large black suitcases are planted next to a tiny blowup mattress on the hardwood floors. She has exactly one blanket and one pillow. And that's the whole space aside from a small bathroom and tiny kitchenette.

In the corner of my eye, I see Hayley observing me closely.

"I do admire what you've…neglected to do with the place," I say carefully.

Hayley rolls her eyes and sticks her nose up in the air. "I'm sorry, we can't _all_ live in the lap of luxury, Elijah."

Her eyes are sparkling with mischief and I laugh, grateful for the easy turn in our conversation.

"Now—let's get you dressed properly." Hayley plops herself down and starts rummaging through one of her big suitcases stuffed with clothes.

I feel nervous. What is she plotting?

"What do you mean "dress properly"? I've been dressing in top-quality, foreign-made suits for hundreds of years," I say matter-of-factly.

"Yes, but we're not in Park Avenue Manhattan, Elijah. We're in Brooklyn. And not in a nice part of town. You need to look more…"

"More…?" I raise an eyebrow.

She stops sifting through her suitcase and fixes me with a serious look, "Ordinary. If you waltz into this dive bar wearing a five thousand dollar suit, you're going to raise everyone's suspicions. You need to blend in, ok?"

"Blending in" is hardly an issue for an original vampire. In fact, I pride myself on standing out. What do I care about flying under the radar? But seeing the pure desperation in Hayley's eyes is enough for me to concede…just this once.

I nod my head in assent and her face lights up. "Great! I found what I was looking for."

Hayley prowls toward me, slowly, hiding a small item behind her back. Then she jumps in front of me and presents me with…a brown fedora.

Oh, sweet jesus, no. "There must be another way," I whisper.

Hayley giggles—evilly—and places the grotesque hat on my head. She pushes me into the bathroom on the left side of the room and positions me to face the mirror. I can barely look at my reflection.

"You look hip!"

"I look like a preening whelp," I moan.

"It's perfect!" Hayley gushes. "Just one more thing."

She turns me around to face her and begins unbuttoning my suit jacket. She's completely focused on her task, but I notice the color rise in her cheeks. I feel her soft breath against my neck. It's almost torture to stand so still, to do nothing, when she's this close to me. My whole body tightens and hums in anticipation.

As Hayley unbuttons the last button, she places her palms on my large shoulders before sliding the jacket off me. She doesn't make eye contact when she hands me the jacket, but I see that her face is totally flushed and she's biting her bottom lip. Then Hayley unbuttons the first few buttons on my shirt collar, but her fingers are trembling, making her clumsy. Her hands rest against my chest and I crane my neck down until we're nose to nose.

She closes her eyes and tilts her chin up slightly. Her hot pink lips transfix me and I bend further. Our lips are inches apart. So close—

_Br-iii-iing!_

A high-pitched ring causes Hayley to jerk up, accidentally banging her head against mine.

"Ouch—shit!" Hayley's hand lifts up to her head and I panic, afraid that I've made her injury worse.

"Are you quite alright?"

She offers me a rueful grin. "Yes, you happened to hit the _other_ side of my head. Nice aim, Original."

I feel relieved and return her smile.

Then Hayley reaches into her jean pocket and takes out a small phone.

I fight the urge to snatch the phone out of her hand and smash it against the wall. That goddamn phone is the reason we were interrupted. What the hell just happened between us? Will we ever have a moment like that again? I try to keep my rage under control, as Hayley, oblivious to my inner turmoil, checks the message on her phone.

After glancing at the screen, she peers up at me and arches an eyebrow.

"It's my friend at the bar—his shift has started. Are you ready?"

"I look like a prize idiot."

"Nah, you're like one of those rich trust fund kids, who slum it in Brooklyn for kicks. You can pull this off."

I give her an incredulous look. Then Hayley turns me toward the mirror once more and places her hands on my shoulders. She rises on her tiptoes and I shudder, feeling her warm breath against my right ear.

"You look hot, trust me," she murmurs.

She's smiling at me warmly and I no longer care what I'm wearing. To hell with the fedora.

I face Hayley and extend my hand. "Shall we?"

She hesitates only for a moment before placing her hand in mine. "I'll lead the way."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

**Hayley**

We almost kissed. Holy shit. Elijah and I almost kissed. I can feel a blush rise to my cheeks just replaying that moment in my mind. His breath brushing my face, the scent of his spicy cologne, the way his eyes clouded before he leaned down, slowly, his lips almost touching mine—and then my damn cell phone ruined everything. God. Damn. It.

And to make a weird situation even weirder, we held hands. Acquaintances don't hold hands…do they? I met Elijah yesterday. It's been less than 24 hours. And yet we're handholding like a…couple. The last time I held hands with a guy was approximately zero years ago. And I don't recall ever having a desire to get all mushy and touchy-feely with a guy.

The weirdest part about this whole thing? When I'm with Elijah and in the moment, it actually doesn't feel weird at all. Oddly enough, I like holding Elijah's hand. It feels…right. It's comfortable. If it were any other person, I'd be running for the hills, but with Elijah, I want to stay close to him. And I want more. Much more.

It's tempting to douse myself with a bucket of ice-cold water to shake off these new feelings, but it's no use. Especially now that we're at the Cole Street Bar and Elijah's leaning against the bar table in his crisp white dress shirt, black slacks…and of course, the fedora I made him wear. And though I detect he's still a little peeved about my selection of that particular accessory, the way he wears the outfit confidently with that slight smirk planted on his face, oozes sexuality. I'll put it this way: if there weren't people currently populating the bar, I would have my way with him on the bar table within five seconds flat.

A strong hand grasps my arm, pulling me out of my dirty daydream, and of course, the hand belongs to Elijah, who's looking at me with concern. Shit. How long has he been trying to get my attention? Panic hits me like a wave. Original vampires don't have the ability to read minds…do they?

"Are you alright, Hayley? You seemed to be in a daze. I asked what you would like to drink."

I exhale loudly and shrug. "Yep, I'm fine! Just a Blue Moon for me, thanks."

Elijah gives me an incredulous look. I'm sure he's not buying what I'm selling. Still, he turns toward the bartender and order us our drinks. Blue Moon for me. Gin and tonic for him.

We clink glasses before sipping our drinks. Then silence. Awkward silence.

I focus on looking around the bar for my friend. Any excuse not to stare at Elijah…but I can't find him.

Damn it. Where the hell is Zack when I need him!?

Then as if I summoned him out of thin air, my golden-haired, tan surfer-dude-esque friend, Zack, struts into the main area of the dimly-lit bar from the back kitchen and flashes me a grin.

"Marshall! How ya been, my girl?"

"I've been okay, how've—"

Before I can answer, Zack grabs me in a bear hug and swings me around. I laugh and return the hug as he sets me down on my feet. He ruffles my hair and I jab him playfully in the arm. He's one of my few friends in the city and the only one I trust with my life. When Katherine was messing with the wolves, Zack protected me. He made sure that no one knew about my whereabouts. I was kept safe. Too bad the rest of the pack wasn't.

I'm so caught up in playful exchange with Zack, I completely miss Elijah watching the whole scene unfold. And the original vampire does not look pleased. In fact, I've never seen such a cold, hard expression on his face.

I back away a little from Zack and gesture toward the pissed off vampire.

"Zack, I'd like to introduce you to my friend, Elijah."

"Ah, nice to meet ya, Elijah." Happy-go-lucky Zack, totally oblivious to Elijah's frosty demeanor, extends his hand.

Elijah looks at Zack's hand dismissively and continues to drink his gin and tonic. "A pleasure."

Zack lowers his hand and glances briefly at me as if to say "What is this guy's deal?" To which, I shrug. I know Zack will go with the flow. It's Elijah I'm worried about. He's acting more like a two-year-old than a centuries-old vampire. Do I really have to remind this worldly, sophisticated supernatural being to play it cool? Lord, help me.

Of course, Zack is his usual sweet, puppy-dog self. He gets down to business behind the bar and works his million-dollar smile when he notices two single ladies waiting to place their drink orders. With his charm and natural good looks, I'm sure he'll make plenty of tips today. And seeing the spark in his pale blue eyes, he knows it too.

Surprisingly, though, Zack turns toward Elijah instead of chasing after his new lady-friends. "Say, it's been a long time since Marshall's been back here. Your next round of drinks is on me."

Zack winks at me and Elijah utters a low growl.

I roll my eyes, fed up with Elijah acting like a petulant child, and elbow him—hard—in the ribs. Finally, the original vampire gets my very strong hint and tilts his head slightly to acknowledge Zack's kind offer.

Zack shrugs and gives me the old "well, I tried to be friendly" smile and prances away. This is a nightmare and so humiliating.

I whirl around to glare at the now sour-faced Elijah. "What the hell is wrong with you!?"

Elijah takes a long sip of his cocktail. "I don't know what you mean."

I place my hands on either side of Elijah's chiseled cheekbones and turn his head so that we're facing each other.

"Yes, you do. In case you completely forgot—Zack is the key to getting answers about the werewolves. So stop acting jealous and get a grip, ok?"

Elijah takes my hands away from his face, but doesn't let them go. We're officially holding hands again. Shit.

"You think I'm jealous?" Elijah asks with a hint of surprise in his voice, as if he just realized it himself.

I don't answer and he doesn't look at me. Instead his gaze rests on our clasped hands. Then he starts rubbing his thumb gently across my knuckles.

A thrill runs down my spine. My mouth is too dry to speak. I look down at our entwined hands, wondering—hoping–what might be next.

Fortunately, Zack, forever blessed with impeccable timing, makes his way over to us, breaking up the romantic mood.

"Hey guys, I'm back with your second round. I noticed you were needing a refill."

I lift my hands away from Elijah's, and he eyes me curiously. He's probably wondering what that intimate moment meant between us. And I'd like to know too.

"Thanks, Zack." I grin, happy for the distraction.

"Anytime, Marshall." Zack replies.

I open my mouth to ask him if he's seen any of my old werewolf crew around, but Elijah beats me to it.

"Hayley tells me you're connected with the wolves who live in this neighborhood. Have you perhaps noticed them acting strangely recently?"

So much for subtlety.

Zack doesn't answer Elijah right away and he actually looks a shade paler. Although it's quite possible he's shocked that Elijah finally made eye contact with him. Poor guy.

Finally, Zack speaks up.

"Yes, the wolves have been longtime patrons of this particular establishment. How do you think I met Miss Marshall here?"

I'm about to respond, but again, Elijah cuts in. Damn him.

"Ah, but you see? You're not answering my question. It was a simple one, really."

"Elijah, stop being rude." I hit him on the shoulder as a warning, but Elijah never breaks eye contact with Zack.

My bartender friend holds his hand up to me and meets Elijah's gaze. "It's ok, Marshall, your strange friend is right. No, no one—no wolf—has been acting strange. Satisfied?"

Now I'm weirded out. How could Zack, the one who protected me when I fell out of favor with the wolves, not say something is seriously wrong with the pack? He knows my history and would definitely be the first person to know what's going on with them. Mind-controlled or not, I know that the wolves would never stop coming to this dive bar. It's $3 beer happy hour for god sakes. New Yorkers don't get a better bargain than that.

In sum, I'm totally confused.

"Zack, what the hell? Don't you remember when you let me crash at your place when the wolves kicked me out? Don't you remember that she-vamp—"

"So you know Katherine," Elijah interjects, his eyes narrowing.

Zack seemed dismissive before, but now he's noticeably uncomfortable. He's shuffling his feet. He won't look at me. Something's up.

"Katherine? I don't know who you're talking about."

My jaw drops. I'm stunned. He lied. I can't believe Zack would lie in front of me. He's acting strange…almost like he isn't himself. Like there's an imposter in his place. Then it hits me and I realize Elijah and I need to leave the bar…now.

"Then why would Hayley mention you knew her?" Elijah persists.

Zack looks at me with pleading eyes, but I don't try to intervene. Instead, I grasp Elijah's shirtsleeve and prepare to haul him out of the bar.

I fix Elijah with a serious look. "We need to get the hell out of here."

Elijah doesn't even ask why we need to go. He moves to my side, ready to leave, when a sultry voice stops us in our tracks.

"Leaving so soon, are you? Just when it was getting fun? You were asking about me after all. Go ahead and ask away."

Elijah and I turn around and take in the breathtaking vision of a slender woman with long dark curls dressed in a tight black dress standing just a few feet away from us. Her hands are planted on her hips. Her full lips curve up in a half-smile. Her brown eyes are glowing with intensity.

Katherine Pierce is here. Now what the hell do we do?


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

**Elijah**

I'm not entirely surprised to see Katherine magically appear before us. She's always had a penchant for making an entrance. Taking in her smoldering brown eyes, her curvaceous figure, her wavy tendrils falling wildly around her face, it's no wonder I fell for her so hard, for so many centuries.

Now, though, the exotic beauty, who once stirred my deepest desires, leaves me cold. Years passed before I began to see the cracks behind her gorgeous façade. After suffering her betrayal countless times, I've learned that behind her soft hair, sparkling eyes, and inviting lips, is a cunning woman incessantly calculating and manipulating to get her way.

Which makes me curious what, exactly, she's up to. Katherine's too careful to expose herself without a purpose. I glance over at Hayley, and notice the wolf girl's hands are clenched into fists and her eyes are staring daggers in Katherine's direction. She's ready to fight. But I can't allow Hayley to endanger herself. She doesn't know what Katherine's capable of, but I do.

Looking around the bar, I note that there are only a few patrons lounging around, and Zack, the coward, has conveniently left the scene to attend a pair of ladies at the bar. It's a good thing the bar isn't crowded. I anticipate things will get messy with Katherine's arrival.

And with that in mind, I step in front of Hayley and gently push her behind me with the back of my hand. Unfortunately, the small gesture doesn't go unnoticed by Katherine. Her smirk widens into a smile as she looks from me to Hayley.

"Elijah," Katherine practically purrs my name, "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

She bats her eyelashes at me and I try not to show my annoyance at her childish antics.

"Let's not delve into niceties. It's a waste of time, don't you agree? So why don't you just tell me what you want?"

I must have made a hilarious joke because she bursts into a fit of laughter. My eyes narrow. Has she gone insane?

After a good few minutes, she stops laughing and stares at me intensely. "Oh, noble, idiotic Elijah."

She saunters toward me, never breaking eye contact. When she finally stops strutting across the bar's hardwood floors, we're nose to nose.

"How could you ask me that?" For a moment, her eyes soften and her hands rest on my chest. She leans in, her lips hovering over my ear as she whispers, "You've always known what I want."

She pulls away slightly, and I can see that she's smiling. But she's not looking at me. I follow her gaze and see she's flashing Hayley a triumphant grin. And, Hayley, is falling for Katherine's bait. Her apple cheeks are aflame and if looks could kill—Katherine would be a pile of dust by now.

Before Hayley pounces on her new prey, I push Katherine away from me. "Stop this nonsense now, Katherine. Name your intentions. I will give you this one chance."

Katherine looks directly into my eyes, suddenly serious. Good. Her laughter and fake smiles were getting on my nerves.

"What I want, dear Elijah, is what I've wanted all along: freedom."

Hayley sidles up beside me and crosses her arms in front of her body. "I don't know. You seem pretty free to me. Free enough to babble on with your nonsense, free enough to send innocent wolves to their deaths—"

"Oh, the wolves." Katherine smiles brightly, "Casualties, I'm afraid. And if you don't shut those pretty lips of yours—you'll be next."

Hayley jumps forward, ready to tackle Katherine, but I manage to grab hold of her and pull her back.

"Don't threaten Hayley again," I warn her with a low growl.

"I'm no more of a threat to Hayley than you are, Elijah," she scoffs. "Let's face it. The Mikaelson siblings all have one thing in common—bringing death to those they love." She ambles closer to Hayley giving her a once-over. Then she turns her head towards me and adds, "You'll probably kill Hayley before I do."

Hayley looks pissed and my blood is boiling. It takes every ounce of control to stay my anger, but I manage to ground out, "Leave now or die here."

Katherine simply giggles. "No. I'm not running."

She turns toward the opposite end of the bar and faces a handful of patrons, who surprisingly have minded their own business with this dramatic scene unfolding before them, and commands, "Take her."

Suddenly, the zoned-out patrons turn angry and lunge towards Hayley. But if Katherine's intent was to catch Hayley off guard, she was mistaken. The wolf girl is ready to kick ass. I watch her deftly evade each attack, striking only when necessary, making sure she doesn't inflict too much pain on Katherine's enslaved minions.

I immediately relax, confident that she can take care of herself, and observe her masterful fighting for just a moment longer before turning my full attention to Katherine.

"You're a fool. What did you expect to be the outcome here? You can't win. Give up. Leave New York. I give you my word I won't come after you."

Katherine's still grinning ear to ear, which I find disconcerting. Why is she so confident?

"I've never worried about you, Elijah. It's your younger brother that concerns me. He's the one that's been chasing me. All these years. Well, you know what? I'm done running. I'm ready to fight. And if there's one thing I've learned—you don't just mess with one Mikaelson, you take on the whole original family."

"Then death it is," I reply nonchalantly.

"I'm not the one who will die," Katherine says smugly. I notice her gaze travel over my shoulder when I feel an intensely sharp pain in my side.

I gasp and look behind me to find Zack, Hayley's friend, sticking a knife in my side. And for some strange reason I can't comprehend, I feel weak. Like I've been drugged.

"ELIJAH!" Hayley screams. She knocks out the last minion standing—a stocky kid with a handlebar mustache—and sprints to my side.

She holds me in her arms as I slide down to the floor. Paralyzed. Useless. I bow my head in shame.

Hayley snarls and looks from the totally dumbfounded Zack to Katherine, "What the fuck did you do to him?"

"Who? Your friend Zack here? Just a little neighborhood mind control. I've managed to turn quite a few people to my side." She looks at the groaning patrons rolling on the floor after receiving a whooping from Hayley, and shakes her head, "I'll have to be more selective about who I choose to fight for me—isn't that right, Zack?"

Zack only nods. His eyes are completely clouded as he takes his place at Katherine's side. In a gross gesture, Katherine cups Zack's face in her palms and massages her lips against his. "That's a good boy."

Hayley's hands are shaking with anger and I peer up at her face. I know she wants to pick a fight, but despite her outrage, she doesn't abandon me.

"What. About. Elijah." Hayley punctuates each word with her fury.

Katherine stops smacking her lips against Zack's and cocks an eyebrow. "A little vervain-soaked knife. As Elijah was _so_ noble to give me a warning, I'm doing the same. The next time we meet, he won't be this lucky."

"Come, Zack. We have more to plan."

Katherine struts toward the bar's exit, but turns to look me square in the eye, "Oh, and Elijah. When Klaus returns, be sure to tell him I say 'hello.'"

Then she turns on her heel and leaves with the zombie-like Zack in toe.

As soon as Katherine's gone, Hayley holds me tighter and grasps the handle of the knife that's still inserted in my side. She looks to me and I nod my unspoken consent before she rips the knife out of my body. I groan in relief.

She tosses the knife away and hugs me close to her. I feel her shaking, and pull away from her to see tears pouring down her face, her body wracked with sobs.

She pushes me—hard—and I almost fall over. "You IDIOT. You're supposed to be an original. How could you get hurt? HOW?"

I pull her back into me and rub her back in long, soothing circles, whispering over and over again that I'm sorry, that I'd never be a fool again.

After holding on to each other for some time, Hayley calms. We sit there on the sticky barroom floor staring at each other at a loss. It was our first battle and we lost. Katherine's roaming around free—and more dangerous than ever. I will not underestimate her again.

With Hayley's help, I stand up on my feet. The vervain in my system has weakened me significantly. Whatever vervain Katherine used, it must be a potent concoction.

Hayley studies me with a concerned look on her face. "Let's go back to my place. Can you walk ok?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you." I try to work up a smile, but Hayley's too exhausted to notice.

She places my arm around her slender shoulder and I lean on her as we walk the short distance to 743 Hart Street.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

**Hayley**

The original vampire is looking up at me warily. Maybe it's because I haven't stopped pacing around my room and ranting since we returned from the bar. Elijah, still a little disoriented from the vervain, has been sitting on the edge of my mattress for an hour, patiently waiting for me to vent all of my anger. It's impossible to dismiss the concern written all over his handsome face, but I can't swallow my rage. I'm pissed.

"Let's face it, Elijah. We're a couple of chumps," I say matter-of-factly.

Elijah can't hide his amusement as he repeats, "Chumps?"

"Yes. The first night Katherine sent a wolf after me, I ended up with a busted head." I point to the bandaged area of my face for emphasis. "And then an almighty original vampire—that's you," I gesture in his direction, "manage to get stabbed with a vervain-laced knife."

Elijah looks stricken and I immediately regret my harsh words. No matter how furious I am at our situation, I know it's not Elijah's fault. I'm about to amend my last comment, when he lifts himself off the mattress and stalks over to me so we're toe-to-toe.

"Hayley," his voice is a rough whisper, "I'm to blame. I was a fool. I underestimated Katherine. But I promise, next time I'll be stronger. Next time, we won't be defeated."

"How can you be so sure?" I ask.

"Because even though _I_ failed you, today _you_ were a revelation."

I try to fight the blush burning up my cheeks, but it's no use.

"Oh yeah?" I say lamely.

"The way you move when you fight—a combination of passion, technique, and grace. You are…mesmerizing." Elijah dark eyes roam up and down my body in obvious appreciation and I bite my bottom lip—a nervous habit.

We're only inches apart. I can feel the heat radiate from his body. It would be so easy to wrap my arms around his neck, pull him down to me, and kiss him senseless. I stare into his eyes, shining with anticipation, and see an invitation there. He wants this as much as I do. I'm about to close the gap between us, when Elijah tears his gaze away from mine and laughs nervously.

"And Katherine, ever-enigmatic, has probably piqued your interest in our sordid little history," Elijah says playfully, trying to lighten up the mood.

It takes me a second to snap out of my lustful haze. We almost had a moment. A moment with kissing. And though it irks me that Elijah is obviously pulling away from me, I can't deny my interest in Elijah's past.

I could smell Katherine's desperation to make me jealous by flirting with Elijah a mile away. But Elijah was completely immune to Katherine's "charms" at the bar, making me even more curious about their relationship. Heaviness settles over my chest just thinking about them together…intimately together._ God_, I pray silently, _I hope they weren't lovers_.

Then a brilliant idea pops into my head.

"Yes, I do want to know, Elijah—just hold that thought." I stroll over to my small kitchenette and lift two shot glasses out of a cabinet as well as a half-empty bottle of vodka from my freezer (actually the only item in my freezer).

Nothing like alcohol to snuff out potential awkwardness, right?

I wave the bottle and glasses in front of Elijah's face, earning me a skeptical grimace. I can see there might be some resistance from the original.

Mustering up all my charm, I give Elijah the lethal "puppy eyes."

"Come on, Elijah. Who says story time can't be fun? We should mix it up a little…please?"

Elijah simply arches an eyebrow and grabs a glass from my hand—reluctant but willing to play my game.

_Sweet victory!_

I take Elijah's free hand and lead him over to my bed (I really should invest in a table one day), and we plop down on my mattress. I pour the first round of vodka and we clink glasses. I quickly swallow my shot and feel the familiar fiery sensation working its way down my body. Then I eagerly pour myself another round. After my second shot, I notice Elijah's empty glass. He watches me curiously as I fill his glass to the brim. It's as if he's never seen a werewolf get hammered before. He sips his shot, never taking his eyes off mine, and holds his empty glass out for round three. I smile shyly and pour more vodka into our glasses.

By round six, I'm feeling buzzed enough to brave Elijah's "Katherine stories."

"Okay, pal, you're up. Give me all the details."

I look over at Elijah and see he's trying his best not to laugh at me. I'm probably showing him my goofy, drunken smile. _Damn it_. I sigh and bury my face in my hands in embarrassment, but strong hands grip my wrists and pull them away from my face.

Elijah tilts up my chin so that my eyes meet his, and I'm completely transfixed by the intensity in his gaze. Slowly, he raises his hands and places them on either side of my face.

Releasing a shaky breath, Elijah closes his eyes.

Then…nothing.

"Elijah?"

"Mmm?"

"…what are you doing?" I ask timidly.

Elijah opens one eye and explains, "You wanted to know my history."

"Yes, but you're not saying anything," I point out.

Now Elijah opens both dark brown eyes and grins, "I'd rather show you. If you open your mind to me—if you let me in—I can show you everything."

I don't fully understand what Elijah means by "showing" me his history, but I certainly don't have to worry about letting him in. I don't know how or when this original vampire managed it, but he's won my trust.

I nod at Elijah, giving him my permission, and close my eyes. At first, there's nothing, and then I see it, a vision…

_A raven-haired beauty in a flowing forest green gown is running along a grassy hill, lifting up her skirts and laughing. I recognize her immediately as Katherine—and even though she looks like an extra on The Tudors—I note that there's a lightness and innocent quality about her. Almost like she's a completely different person._

_ Coming up behind Katherine, I see Elijah dressed in period garb with a wavy mop for hair. I chuckle at his decidedly unstylish haircut, but I can't stay callous for long seeing how happy Elijah is, chasing Katherine around. They're both incredibly effervescent in their happiness. It's strange to compare this capricious youthful Elijah to the measured and serious Elijah I know now._

_ Elijah and Katherine tease each other playfully and it's heartwarming to watch. Katherine opens up to him about a man named Klaus, whom she hoped would come to her the night before. Suddenly, I piece together that it's Elijah's brother—the one he's barely spoken of. Something must have happened with Klaus for Katherine to bear this gargantuan grudge for centuries, so I make a mental note to ask him more about this mysterious Klaus later._

_ Then I hear Katherine mention the word "love" and my ears perk up._

_ "…but true love is not real unless it's returned. Don't you agree?" Katherine asks Elijah with a small smile._

_ He turns serious, wearing a dour expression more in line with present day Elijah and says, "I do not believe in love, Katerina."_

_ "That is too sad for me to accept, my lord. Life is too cruel. If we cease to believe in love, why would we want to live?" _

_ But before Elijah responds, an elegant man with shoulder-length blonde hair appears—and seeing Katherine's delighted expression, I can tell it's the infamous Klaus. _

_ Elijah looks deflated and powerless as he watches Klaus lead Katherine away from him, and my heart aches. The story of Elijah and Katherine is becoming clear, and I know there's no way this ends well for either of them._

Suddenly, a burst of light appears before me and the scene changes…

_In a dim, candle-lit room, Klaus approaches Elijah slowly, his voice low and menacing, "Love is a vampire's greatest weakness and we are not weak, Elijah. We do not feel. And we do not care."_

_ Elijah looks into his brother's eyes pleadingly, "We did once."_

_ Klaus replies sternly, "Too many lifetimes ago to matter…the sacrifice will happen as planned."_

Another flash of light…

_I'm in the same room, richly decorated with tapestries and long, white candles. This time Elijah is sitting alone, reading a book_ _until Klaus appears suddenly, in a rage._

_ "Katerina has gone, she has fled."_

_ "No," Elijah utters in disbelief._

_ "What did you tell her?" Klaus demands._

_ "I told her nothing."_

_ Klaus grabs Elijah and throws him against a wall and roars, "DO NOT LIE TO ME!"_

_ "I will find her, you have my word." Elijah says through gritted teeth._

_ Klaus' eyes are glowing with anger as he whispers venomously, "If you do not, you have my word: you will be dead."_

A blinding light takes me out of the scene. I blink a couple times and see Elijah—present day, suave, suit-wearing Elijah—looking at me with concern.

"Hayley, are you alright?"

I peer up at Elijah, but I can't bring myself to say anything. Instead, I refill his empty glass with more vodka, which he downs. Then I fill it up again and place it in his hands, encouraging him to take another shot. Elijah obeys and drinks it all. He places his glass down on the floor and shoots me a worried glance.

I wait a beat and then pull Elijah into a gentle hug. Surprised by my spontaneous gesture, Elijah stiffens, but soon relaxes into my touch. He exhales and my hand runs up and down his back as I say softly, "I'm so sorry you went through that hell."

The original vampire leans back to look into my eyes and I say with a little more attitude, "Your brother is a total asshole."

Elijah guffaws and I'm proud that my bluntness always elicits a laugh from him. And the way his lips curve up slightly when he laughs…it's ridiculously sexy.

"I'm glad that showing you my rather sad past didn't rob you of your humor," he remarks wryly.

I shrug in response and start asking Elijah some serious questions.

"Ok, there's definitely more clarity with this flashback thing, but what exactly did Klaus intend to do with Katherine? A sacrifice of some kind?"

"He needed to sacrifice Katerina—er, Katherine—to break a curse that bound him as a werewolf. You see, we're actually half-brothers. Klaus' real father was a werewolf."

I nod my head in understanding as Elijah continues, "Ultimately, Katherine found out about Klaus' plan to sacrifice her and became a vampire so she would be ineligible, as the sacrifice calls for a human. My brother never forgave her. He's been hunting her throughout the centuries as some sort of vendetta. I imagine she's tired of running away and has found a way to fight back."

"So it all boils down to the asshole brother, huh?"

Elijah merely shakes his head, "In a nutshell: yes."

I'm dreading his response, but I have to ask, "It seems your feelings for Katherine have changed. But before you…_loved _her, didn't you?"

Elijah doesn't answer for a while. He looks away and I know he's considering his words carefully.

"For a long, long time, I thought I was in love with her. But loving someone so deeply when she never even cared for you in return…it was a rude awakening."

Elijah grows quiet. I can see it in his eyes. He's in pain. I kneel in front of him and rest my hand on his shoulder.

"If she never felt anything for you, Elijah, she's an idiot," and I add softly, "I do hope that you've changed your mind about 'not believing in love.'"

Elijah tenses up and his eyebrows knit together as he tucks an errant strand of dark hair behind my ear, sending a delicious shiver down my body. "That, unfortunately, is still true."

I let out an exasperated sigh, "Stop this, Elijah. How can you—all your life, living for centuries, and you've never once loved someone? How is that possible? I don't underst—"

Before I can finish, Elijah places his hands on my face and I see a bright light, transporting me to another vision…

_This time I just see flashes, bursts of images. A gorgeous woman with mocha skin, curly dark tendrils, and a warm smile. Elijah's lover. I see them together, laughing and playing. It's the same carefree Elijah from the last vision. He's opened himself up to love again._

_ Then the vision changes…Elijah's running into his room where he sees the woman submerged in a bathtub. She's not coming up for air. _

_ NO! Oh god, no. _

_ Elijah rushes to the side of the tub and lets out a bloodcurdling wail…_

I snap out of the vision and my eyes rest on Elijah, who's pale as ghost. Hot liquid dribbles down my cheeks and it takes a minute for me to realize I'm crying. The woman he loved drowned and I felt Elijah's absolute despair and grief as if it was my own.

With shaky hands, Elijah wipes the tears off my face and whispers, "I'm so sorry, Hayley. I shouldn't have shown you that…I don't know what came over me."

"…what was her name?" I ask, when I find my voice again.

"Celeste."

"It's fitting. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman."

Elijah's hands drop from my face. His eyes are shining, full of sadness for his lost love, and my heart fucking hurts. I want to take away his pain so badly.

"So you see, Katherine was right. Klaus was right. Love is impossible for me. At best, I'm spurned, and at worst, I cause the woman I love…"

He drifts off, but I know where this conversation is headed and I'm not having it. "Let's get one thing straight: you were not responsible for Celeste's death. It was an accident…"

"My brother called on a witch hunt, Celeste was a witch and a casualty of my own damn complacency. I should have protected her—"

"No, Elijah. You're not to blame, whatever shenanigans your brother caused, YOU were not part of it. You are good and deserving of love," I say adamantly as I caress his face, weaving my fingers through his wavy brown hair.

Elijah looks down, refusing to meet my gaze, and it's damn frustrating. Then he starts up his speech again, which is equally frustrating. "You don't understand, Hayley, my family is powerful and our enemies more powerful still. I can't risk bringing someone into this life—"

It could be the vodka, but it occurs to me that there's only one way to silence Elijah—for good. My hands reach out to cup his face and I press my lips against his in a soft, lingering kiss.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

**Elijah**

Hayley's soft lips brush against mine and I'm lost. I close my eyes and wrap my arms around the small of her back, pulling her closer to me. Her scent—lavender with a hint of vanilla—is intoxicating and her firm breasts are pressed against me. She sighs against my mouth and my heart feels like it's going to beat out of my chest. I deepen the kiss, tasting the vodka on her lips, and she eagerly massages her lips against mine.

Her hands drop to my chest and I can feel her deft fingers unbuttoning my shirt. She frantically pushes the fabric off of my shoulders, but loses her balance in the process. She lets out a high-pitched squeak as she falls—and lands on top of me. My eyes snap open to see Hayley straddling my body, and the way her hips start grinding against my groin, I'm certain she can feel my hardness beneath her. Beautiful, bright eyes are shining with hunger and lust, mirroring my own, and she's grinning triumphantly. Lying underneath her, I'm helpless—entirely at her mercy. And she knows it.

Her head bends down and she traces her lips against my neck, my cheek, and finally, my lips. Her tongue flicks against mine, and I capture her mouth in another passionate kiss. At first, we kiss slowly, luxuriating in the sensation of touching, tasting—and then our kisses turn frenzied, desperate. Hayley's cool hands slip under my shirt, removing it completely. She tosses the shirt on the ground and stares at my naked chest in silence, taking in my chiseled form. I can't quite meet her gaze, so I grip her tight ass and jerk her body close to mine. She gasps in surprise and plants warm kisses from my chest down to my hard stomach.

I moan with pleasure and thank the gods for whatever I've done right in my interminable, vampire existence to earn me this blissful moment with Hayley. I run my fingers through her silky, dark hair and completely surrender myself to her feather-light caresses on my body.

Then I feel my belt buckle slide off and a voice inside me calls me back to reality, urging me to stop what inevitably comes next. And before I can register what I've done, my rough hands cover hers, stopping her from touching me further.

"We can't."

My voice is barely a whisper, and as soon as the words leave my mouth, I immediately regret them.

A flurry of emotion flashes across Hayley's face—shock, humiliation…fear? She yanks her hands from my grasp and rolls off of me. Then she sits upright and stares at me, full of remorse. And there's something about the pained look in her eyes that vexes me.

"I'm so sorry, Elijah. I shouldn't have kissed you. I don't know what happened. You were hurt and I wanted you to feel better and then I had too much to drink—" Hayley sputters out the words, talking a mile a minute.

I sit up next to her and search her eyes for the truth, "You kissed me because you pity me?"

Hayley groans and smacks her forehead in frustration. "No! That's not it at all. I just—"

I hold up my hand. "It's alright. I understand."

"Urgh. You don't understand. El—Elijah?"

I walk over to the side of the bed where my shirt's piled up in a crumpled mess. I'm determined to leave before Hayley admits something else I don't want to hear.

A tugging on my arm stops me from dressing myself and I peer down to see Hayley gripping me tightly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said. Just…just please don't go." Hayley's light brown eyes are looking up at me with an earnestness I know I can't refuse.

"I shouldn't stay…" I hedge.

"Please…please…" Hayley repeats the words over and over again, her eyes blinking slowly until her eyelids flutter shut. Then she falls back onto the small mattress with a loud thump.

The wolf girl has passed out.

I let out an exasperated sigh. Hayley's won this round and I've lost.

I'm not going anywhere tonight.

What to do when the contents of one's refrigerator comprises of a pot of soggy ramen noodles and carton of expired milk? Pay a visit to the bodega across the street, of course.

Hayley's alcohol-induced coma left her unconscious for the night, leaving me to wonder what I should do when the wolf girl wakes. Alas, there isn't much to entertain a vampire—or anyone with or without a pulse—in Hayley's apartment.

Her room is appallingly barren. No television, no bookcases, no diversions of any kind. Her clothes are stuffed inside a large suitcase, which is useful if she ever plans to pack up and leave at a moment's notice. This isn't surprising. Hayley has nothing to keep her here. That much is clear. Still, a part of me never wants to think of the day she'll finally leave the city—the day she'll leave me.

Would she consider staying in New York? Just taking in the general emptiness in her apartment, I know it's a fool's hope. Every unfurnished, un-decorated corner of the room screams "temporary living space." This blank canvas of a room is certainly not a home.

And yet—empty nooks and crannies aside—nothing shocked me more than the state of Hayley's kitchen. Stale chips in her cupboard? More bottles of liquor than food in her refrigerator? How on earth has Hayley managed to feed herself all these months?

For me, this empty refrigerator was the last straw. How can my partner in this investigation keep up, if she has so little sustenance? Thus, I rationalized that my trip to the bodega was not only a boon for Hayley—but also for our mission. And though it was quite daunting escaping the apartment early this morning without rousing the easy-to-anger-original vampire-hating Nonna—the grocery shopping adventure was a success.

I shake my head, pulling myself out of my reverie, and focus on my next important task: breakfast.

I crack several eggs into a small bowl, seasoning them with plenty of pepper and a pinch of salt, and mix the ingredients together. Once the eggs are sufficiently whisked, I pour them onto a hot pan on the stovetop, which I've placed next to a pan of crackling bacon. On the kitchen counter, a stack of fluffy pancakes rests on top of a large white plate. The breakfast feast is nearly finished.

I divide up the bacon on two different plates and scoop up the eggs—sunny-side up—and place equal amounts on the plates as well.

And then I hear it—two feet padding lightly on the hardwood floors and stopping near the kitchen. Perfect timing.

Hayley clears her throat and I turn around, almost taken aback by her stunning features. Even with her frizzy bed-hair, her flushed cheeks and sparkling brown eyes are enough to drive me insane with lust.

"What's going on? Where did you get this food!?" the wolf girl exclaims.

I grin and point to the refrigerator with the spatula in my hand. "There's more where that came from."

She walks to the refrigerator door with trepidation, opens it, and gasps.

"Holy hell! There's…food! In my refrigerator!"

A chuckle escapes my lips as she starts inspecting each item the fridge one by one—fresh strawberries, assorted cold cuts, blocks of cheese, sliced bread. Her eyes are shining with surprise and her full lips curve into a shy smile.

She closes the refrigerator and steps closer to me, her head bowed down bashfully. "Elijah, I don't know what to say…"

I drop the spatula on the counter and grasp her shoulders with my hands.

"You don't have to say a word. It was my pleasure."

We stand there gazing into each other's eyes, basking in the warmth of the moment—until I hear Hayley's stomach rumble with a low growl.

Horrified, Hayley's face turns red and she covers her face with her hands.

"Damn it! So embarrassing…"

I bark out a laugh and hand the starving wolf a plate. "Make sure to grab some pancakes too."

She sheepishly takes the plate from my hands, adds a generous helping of pancakes, and then claims a spot on the hard floor between the kitchen and her bed.

"You really should invest in a table one day," I say, gathering my own plate of eggs, bacon, and pancakes, and sitting down next to her.

Hayley winks in my direction and responds, "With you as my personal chef, I'll definitely consider it."

With a trusty fork in her hand, Hayley inhales a piece of pancake and closes her eyes as she chews, savoring each bite. Next, she stabs a strip of bacon with some egg, shoveling it in her mouth as well. There are no other words except Hayley's chorus of 'Mmms' and 'Oh gods', which assures me she's thoroughly enjoying her repast.

Then Hayley drops her plate on the floor to give me an enthusiastic thumb's up sign. I incline my head slightly in appreciation, but inside, I'm utterly euphoric watching Hayley devour my food. I would cook for this woman every day to see this glimpse of pure delight on her beautiful face.

I'm about to convey how flattered I am by her praise when I notice Hayley's suddenly turned serious. I can see it in her downcast eyes.

"About last night…Elijah, I'm so—"

I cut her off before she has a chance to finish the thought. "Let's not discuss it. Emotions spun out of control, consumed us…"

Hayley arches an eyebrow questioningly, but says nothing. And for that I'm grateful. The last thing I need to hear from Hayley's lips is that she only kissed me because she thought I was pitiful.

Sensing I've put the issue to rest, I continue, "Furthermore, it's in the past. I propose we focus on the present—which is far more pressing. What to do about our mutual adversary, for example?"

The wolf girl merely shrugs—and although I see a bit of annoyance flash across her face—she doesn't challenge me.

"Well, Zack and the bar was my call. And considering that someone I considered a friend is now a mind-controlled zombie, I'd say it's your turn to come up with a Plan B."

I smirk at Hayley's sauciness and set my plate on the floor next to hers before obliging her command. "I do, in fact, have a plan: one which would render Katherine absolutely powerless."

"Oh yeah? And that would be…?"

"Taking away Katherine's mind-control ability," I reply confidently.

"As simple as that, huh?" Hayley says sarcastically.

"If Katherine can control so many individuals—humans and werewolves alike—there's only one explanation."

"Cue the drum roll?"

Brushing off Hayley's trenchant remark, I answer, "Witchcraft."

Hayley's eyes widen. It's clicked. "Of course, why didn't we just investigate the witches? Katherine must have an ally in one of the covens in the city. But where do we even start?"

I flash Hayley a wide smile, pick my plate off of the floor, and fork a large helping of room-temperature pancake into my mouth.

"I have a fairly good idea where we need to go."


End file.
